


We are not our parents

by Confronting_the_faceless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Muggles, Original Character(s), Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confronting_the_faceless/pseuds/Confronting_the_faceless
Summary: The war turned the tables. We are the Slytherins. We are being made to pay for our parents mistakes. They assume we are just like them but we are not our parents.





	1. Chapter 1

The  
war  
turned  
the  
Tables.

 

People don’t  
Go through life with the mindset  
of creating war.  
Look at the flame  
in the midst of it all.  
It burns on hate,  
prejudice,  
pride,  
and the feeling of being ignored.  
Prejudice  
leads to discrimination  
and hate.  
Add that to the mix  
of rising tension  
and people feeling that  
Their world is being changed  
by those who have not been a  
part of for as long  
as themselves,  
and the pressure they are put under.  
This flame ignites the fire.

Is it a revolution?  
Is it standing up for your own rights?  
Is it changing the political  
and social climate  
to something that you believe in?  
You need to know,  
That depending on which side  
the flame burns  
most brightly on.  
Which side is  
“good" or “evil".  
And most importantly which side wins.  
Your “revolution” as such  
Will be judged and called different names.

When you look  
where the flame was first ignited  
it tends to be in one place.  
And it spreads  
through the circles  
and seeps  
into peoples lives.  
The place's reputation  
gets tarnished  
when they are on the “evil" side.  
The peoples' names,  
families and friends  
get shamed for somehow  
being related.  
You seem to forget that  
not all meant harm.  
You seem to forget  
that some had no choice,  
That they were just  
trying to  
protect  
the ones they love.  
After all,  
how far would you go  
to keep safe  
the people you love?  
You seem to forget  
that not all of them  
had an active role,  
just didn’t speak out.  
You seem to forget  
that people just did  
what is easy not what was  
the ethically and morally  
right thing to do.  
You seem to forget  
that some of your own  
were just the same.  
You forget that  
We  
are  
not a  
all  
bad.

 

That's us.  
Those part of the once significant  
Sacred twenty- eight.  
But most of all  
The Slytherins.

We are known for being  
the cunning and ambitious ones.  
People often forget  
That we are also  
resourceful and creative.

Times have changed  
And so do we  
The tables have turned.  
We face hardship unlike others whilst at home.  
We have no opportunities.  
We are subject to ridicule.  
We are mocked and whispered at.  
We are the targets for others to practice hexes on.  
We get marked down.  
We get the blame pinned on us for everything.  
Our opinions do not count.  
We have been refused help.  
In other words we are discriminated against.  
Because of which house we belong to.  
And more importantly  
what our names are  
and  
what our parents did.

 

I will tell you now,  
that either our parents views  
have changed  
or we are kept religiously  
away from them.  
With the odd exception  
of one or two-  
but still they hold different beliefs.  
I will tell you again  
We  
are  
not  
our  
parents.


	2. Fire in my eyes

I used to live   
in my own little bubble.  
Oblivious  
to the other world  
I belonged to.  
I used to be proud  
of my name  
I thought it brought me closer   
to my parents.  
But now I don’t want to be.

I am not my parents.  
No one used to look at me  
in a mixture of   
disgust  
and curiosity   
whenever I say my name.  
I still don't know why I kept my name,  
They meant well,  
thought they were doing me a favour.  
They were probably trying to avoid me going through the phase of self   
belonging and searching  
for who I biologically was.  
They were right.  
I have no need to   
become closer or   
more like them.  
When I found out  
I wish I shared their name.  
They were the burns   
and I   
was   
a   
Rowle.

 

The war had been over  
for a few months.  
They had grown tired  
of the old blood.   
They wanted to punish  
those left   
for what they had done.  
They did not see them  
as people they saw them as   
animals,   
fit only for captivity.  
They saw them all as   
mass murderers   
not as individuals.

Some of them were as bad as they get.  
Evil to the core.  
Others were swayed easily   
and went to the highest bidder.  
However most of them were   
weak and insecure.  
They went into hiding.  
They were willing   
to put their pasts behind them.  
Living with the so called  
filthy muggles.   
Those filthy muggles showed them compassion, kindness and love,  
little if which the magical community had ever shown them.  
They accepted them as they were and did not ask questions and judge.  
They became part of the community. And forged friendships.  
The ministry was determined to find and imprison them.  
They wanted to use them as a future deterrent for others.  
But do deterrents always work?  
The answer is no.   
People go to any lengths to achieve the end means.   
Did they learn  
Anything from the past?

 

A man and wife moved in  
to the house in the middle of Westview Way.  
The houses were many in number but small in size.   
Most of which were past their prime. But in these poverty filled streets there was a tight knit community.  
These people were all struggling  
to make ends meet,  
so believed that they were in it together.

The news that two young people with a little child   
of around one or two   
spread like wildfire.   
The gossip was light hearted  
and no questions were asked.  
Invitations for tea went round the street.  
The many families crammed into the small house.  
They introduced the child  
as Cordelia Rowle.   
Who beamed and made the neighbours laugh.   
And the cake was of an exceptional standard.  
In the coming months that followed they integrated themselves into the village.  
The man became known for gardening and odd jobs.  
Whilst his wife joined various groups and brought along her soon well known cakes.   
Whereas the little girl made friends among the street.  
No magic was used.  
Had they really proved that a leopard can change his spots?

The girl was playing in front garden. Tottering on the well kept grass and looking at the array of flowers.  
Her mother was looking at her adoringly,  
whilst flicking through a glossy magazine.   
Her father's laugh filled the room when he looked up from the gardening shears  
he was mending.  
All seemed well. But was it really?   
They wore the expression of fear.  
The the feeling of anticipation dripped off of them.  
The man was constantly   
looking over his shoulder.  
Veins in his temple were rarely not throbbing.  
His wife’s hands were very rarely still.   
They often shared a look which said how long is this going to last.  
They told their child that   
they were sorry, you are loved and you have got to be strong.   
She was repeatedly told  
Don’t make the same mistakes as us  
Please,please don’t end up anything like us.  
When you looked past their smiling faces you could see that their past was catching up.  
A ladybird landed on a leaf   
and she started singing to it.  
Ladybird, ladybird  
Fly away home.  
She was too enthralled to notice what was going on inside.  
Two aurors apparated into the kitchen.  
They immediately tied the young couples hands together.  
They forced them upright knocking the chairs to the floor.   
The man accepted his fate.  
The woman did not.   
She told them she had a daughter.  
The aurors ignored her.  
She said again in a whisper.  
She screamed at him and they tried to retrain her further.  
Something went wrong.  
It did not restrain her.  
The aurors panicked when they saw what they had done. They disappeared with a crack, bringing their hostages with them.   
Narrowly escaping the flames rising.  
They covered it up.   
Never came back.  
Case closed.   
Meanwhile the girl hadn’t noticed what was going on inside.   
She was still singing.  
Your house is on fire  
She looked up and saw orange flames dancing from inside the kitchen.  
The flames were moving more precariously, the whole room was ablaze.   
She could not see her parents.  
She chocked out the words in higher pitch, fear rising insider her.  
And your children are gone.

I hope it doesn’t seem too glamorous.  
I hope it didn’t seem like I thought the life they led before,  
Was acceptable.  
They may have changed   
But you can’t forget  
What they did was  
Twisted and wrong.

You should know that the little girl was safe, she can tell you that she was taken in by the neighbours, brought up as the child they never had.  
The fire brigade was called and the blaze stamped out.   
They never new what happened to the young couple.  
Some embellished the story,  
Said people came to take them away, and lit the fire to cover their tracks.  
Most thought that the innocent young couple were burnt alive in the fire- an accident with the gas.  
I thought they were dead.  
It was a shock   
when I found out  
they were rotting  
in a wizarding prison for life,   
serving time for the many lives  
they helped to take.  
They didn’t have a trial.  
They didn’t have their side told.  
No one listened to them.  
No one new about me.  
After all,  
Who would believe a pair of death eaters? 

 

Every person   
will someday  
Have a flame,  
keeping them going  
day after day.  
That flame  
helps form   
your opinions  
your beliefs  
your interests and  
what you feel passionate about.  
This flame can be good  
It can be bad.  
The flame first lights at different times.  
My flame was first lit  
when   
I   
saw   
fire   
in   
my   
eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters are introductory chapters and then it will take more of a story form.


End file.
